


Stupefied

by mansikka



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Happy Dean, M/M, Out of Character Dean, Sam is Not Amused
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-07 10:41:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8797669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: Dean's not paying attention. Sam is not amused, and Dean can't work out why. Still, Dean's having trouble remembering much of anything today, apart from the thing that happened the last time he saw Cas, so maybe he can be forgiven for being a little out of it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Something silly to start the new year... Happy New Year! x

“Dean. Dean... _Dean_ ,”

 

It wasn't Sam's repeated calling of his name that finally broke him from his reverie. Dean's mind was always on subconscious alert for when Sam was in trouble or he really needed his attention, and he could effortlessly separate the _urgent_ tone from the _it can wait_ one without even acknowledging it. The truth was, he'd probably heard each and every individual uttering of his name in the five minutes Sam had spent calling it. So having it repeated with a flare of increasing annoyance didn't do much to break him from his spell.

 

No, it was the abrupt clicking of fingers right in his face that lingered a vague smell of coffee there that did it. Dean felt rather than actively actioned the slow raising of his head to look up at Sam where he loomed over him in full bitch-face stance with a glower that could cut rocks. But Dean's mind was firmly elsewhere, not noticing the frustration that set across Sam's shoulders or the scowl that spoke of his glimmering impatience. In fact the one and only word he could bring himself to sluggishly rouse into existence at that moment was one that would prove to infuriate Sam further still.

 

“Coffee?”

 

“What the hell's gotten into you?” Sam called with sheer exasperation; Dean was already up and propelling himself forward, heading for the kitchen without a single glance back. His fingers wrapped in appreciation around the freshly-brewed pot of coffee and he slid two mugs down from the cupboard pouring them both a generous measure. Though the first sip he took did nothing much to revive him, nothing to break him from the vague stupid feeling he'd been feeling for- Dean dragged his eyes in increments up to the clock that hung on the wall with just a fraction of a slant that told him the time nonetheless- nine hours and sixteen minutes. Give or take.

 

“ _Dean_ ,”

 

Okay _that_ one registered as annoyance, Dean thought to himself, staring down at the mug in his hand and finding himself surprised to be drinking coffee. _When did that happen_ , he asked himself in surprise, _I don't remember putting on a pot_? And then a glance over at Sam had him bewildered, wondering _huh, what's gotten into_ him _this morning_?

 

“I don't know what's gotten into you-”

 

“Hey,” Ire rose in Dean then, not ready for one of Sam's out of nowhere lectures when he'd done _nothing_ wrong, not one thing to provoke the wrath of Sam out of the wrong side of bed. Maybe he overslept? Dean mused to himself, pondering if a lack of a morning run was what was making Sam so irritable. “Drink your coffee and... and cheer up,”

 

Under other circumstances, the way Sam's eyes rounded that little bit fuller and his head tilted forward at that slightest of incredulous angles, Dean would otherwise find all kinds of amusing. But when he had no clue as to the reason for Sam's anger and was still trying to work his thoughts through the bowl of treacle that currently represented his brain, he had zero tolerance for misplaced bad moods.

 

“Cheer up. Cheer _up_?” Sam's words spiralled out of him like a blast of steam from a kettle; Dean took in the way Sam balled his fists tight by his sides and concluded from his earlier musings that Sam had far too much pent up energy and should be actively encouraged to go for a run. A long one.

 

“Yeah,” Dean barked back, slinging the rest of his coffee down his throat and smacking his lips; the movement had his brain switch back to stupid and the mug in his hand barely made the counter without tumbling to the floor. “What's your deal?”

 

“My- my _deal_? Dean. I've been... I've been calling you for the past _hour_. I didn't even know you were out here 'till I opened your bedroom door to s-”

 

“What the hell 'r you doing letting yourself into my _room_ for, Sam?” And now Dean really was pissed, and his heart racing a fraction at the thought of such a violation of his privacy. Sam's eye roll clearly showed he thought Dean's reaction too much, which just added fuel to his anger. “I'm serious. Keep the _hell_ outta my room-”

 

“Frightened I'll walk in on you with a load of skin m-”

 

“ _Sammy_ ,”

 

The _ugh_ of disgust hit three seconds before the angry slap of Sam's palms down by his sides, and Dean watched with increasing bewilderment as Sam paced back and forth in front of him.

 

“If you can get your head outta your ass for a second-”

 

“Sammy-”

 

“There's a _case_ ,” Sam pressed on, coming to stop about a foot in front of him and raising a solitary eyebrow that Dean took to studying for a few seconds before the word _case_ filtered through.

 

“A case?” He repeated back, and that repetition seemed to make Sam practically livid.

 

“Yeah, Dean. A _case_ . Like... you know... hunting and shit. Kinda stuff we _do_ day in day out?”

 

“Alright, yeah, I got it,” Dean nodded, angry himself. He was in no mood for Sam's lectures, especially when he'd done nothing to provoke them, and hey, hadn't he already had that thought this morning? How long _had_ Sam been shouting at him?

 

“Think you can be ready in an hour?” Sam all but screamed at him, still staring back at him in incredulous disbelief.

 

“'course I can be _ready in an hour_. Not all of us've gotta _crimp our hair_ before we leave,” Dean left before he could hear Sam's retort, already letting the anger bristling in the air behind him to go out of his mind.

 

Back in his room Dean found himself staring at a half-packed holdall slowly slipping from the side of his bed, bemused to find it already had things inside it. Shaking his head and assuming he'd left stuff in from last time Dean gathered the rest of his things and zipped the bag up with purpose then slouched down beside it, an idle finger playing with a frayed strand of thread sticking out of one side. His other hand raised slow and two fingertips pressed against his lips in thought, his expression becoming one of disbelief again. And if it wasn't for Sam shouting at him furiously from outside his door Dean might have sat there staring for an indefinite length of time.

 

***

 

“You sick?”

 

Dean turned his gaze from out on the open road to Sam in the passenger seat, looking for an explanation for Sam's strange outburst.

 

“Sick? I'm not sick,” Dean shook his head, mentally checking himself over for any signs of anything that might make Sam be jumping to that kind of conclusion and finding nothing. He felt _good_ ; _alive_ even, an undercurrent of excitement buzzing away beneath his skin that made him feel a little like he was physically leaning forwards to charge through his day.

 

“Then what the hell's gotten into you?”

 

The tinge of uncertain worry in Sam's voice had Dean narrowing his eyes and shaking his head. “Got _no_ clue what you're-”

 

“You're like...” and Sam seemed out struggle for his words, finally waving out a vague hand into the mid air and proclaiming, “Out of it.”

 

“'Out of it?'”

 

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, enthused and narrow-eyed. “You _have_ been. Out of it. _All morning_ , Dean. Something I should know about?”

 

White noise assaulted Dean's ears then as a blast of blurred images and muted sounds attacked from all sides, making his heart skip and his stomach drop and his thoughts set to _stunned_.

 

“Dude. Pull over,”

 

Dean looked up to find Sam's hand an inch from the steering wheel and forcefully pushed it away. “The hell you doing, Sam?”

 

“Well if _you_ won't focus enough to drive, I'm gonna-”

 

“Seriously,” Dean glared at him, slowly shaking his head. “What the hell's your problem today?”

 

“Pull over,”

 

“What-”

 

“I said pull the hell over,” The pitch and incensed fury in Sam's tone had Dean tapping on the brake, and though reluctant he pulled over the moment it was safe. He considered leaving the engine running to indicate he wanted this to be nothing but a quick stop, but the look of anger making Sam's face practically glow told him whatever he was pissed about was going to take more than a couple of minutes for him to work out of his system. With a put upon sigh Dean turned the key, wriggling back into his seat and getting comfortable for the expected onslaught.

 

“'k. Start talking,”

 

Dean's eyebrows raised of their own accord at the _demand_ in Sam's voice, thoroughly bewildered by the origin of his mood. Though, Dean considered, he'd been thinking that all morning. Maybe Sam hadn't had chance to go for a run?

 

“Dean,”

 

There was no way one word should carry such anger, frustration and rage, yet Sam's blasting out of Dean's name seemed to prove otherwise.

 

“What?”

 

“Either spill-”

 

“There's nothing to _spill_ -”

 

“Or get your head the hell outta your ass. Unless you're sick. Are you sick, Dean? Do we need to get someone to look you over?”

 

Dean snorted with laughter and shook his head, rolling his shoulders and feeling so very _well_ it didn't seem possible he ever hadn't been. “I'm _fine_ , Sammy. Seriously, you're the one with the attitude this morning. I didn't even-”

 

“That's it. We're going to an urgent care. Getting you checked over-”

 

“There's nothing _wrong_ with me,” Dean protested, his confusion over Sam's weirdness rising until _he_ was worried that maybe something very wrong was wrong with _Sam_.

 

“Still. Maybe an urgent care can-”

 

“I don't _need_ no urgent care-”

 

“Or maybe we can call Cas to-”

 

Dean's brain screeched to a stuttering halt, that white noise was back, and somewhere in the distance Dean heard himself give a thoroughly dramatic intake of breath. _Cas_ , he thought, and there was an immediate rush of heat to his chest, and god help him; his stomach actually fluttered.

 

“Don't tell me you two've fallen out _again_ ,” Sam complained in a long-suffering petulant put-upon whine.

 

“What?” Dean almost cricked his neck with the speed he turned his head in alarm. “Wait, what? No! No; me 'n Cas... me 'n Cas 're _good_...”

 

“ _Good_ ,” Sam insisted, “Then you won't mind him checking you over-”

 

The high pitched peal of laughter that erupted and filled the car Dean eventually placed as coming from himself, but only after Sam forcibly got his attention with a bruising shake of his arm that made Dean slide his eyes over and meet Sam's, thoroughly startled.

 

“What. The.  _Hell_. Is going on with you?”

 

Dean took in Sam's body language and the finality of his words, and tried to tune that into the images playing on repeat in his head that had been going now for- Dean raised and shook his wrist to check his watch – eleven hours and fifteen minutes, and came up empty, and still thoroughly startled.

 

A slow raise of his hand to his face and those two fingertips he'd pressed to his lips earlier were back, taking in what he decided was the still slight swell there and the bombardment of sensations that filled every possible space in his brain. And just when he felt Sam beside him seconds from a violent explosion of fury, Dean gave one slow shake of his head and, cleared his throat.

 

“Cas kissed me,”

 

***

 

“He kissed you,” Sam's voice rippled with disbelief that Dean took instant offence to and squared his shoulders against.

 

“Yeah. He _did_ ,” Dean bit back at him with an insistence that could slice things.

 

“He kissed you-”

 

“Sounding like a broken record there, Sammy-”

 

“But like... intentionally?”

 

Dean snorted at the doubt in Sam's reply and nodded, “ _H_ _ell_ , yeah,”

 

“And,” Sam began, the hesitance setting off all kinds of alarms for Dean, “Was it... uh... was it _uninvited_? Uh... Unwanted?”

 

Dean's brain came to a sudden, juddering halt. There were times in his life where he was so hopelessly proud of his little brother. For being the smart one, for being _so_ intelligent, for always having the answer when anyone else might have given up. But in moments like _this_ , Dean realised with exasperation, well in moments like this Sam was revealed as surely being the bigger idiot of the two of them. So utterly, thoroughly clueless. About something so important too, Dean sighed to himself, schooling in his impatience.

 

“'course it was _wanted_ , Sammy. Like... like I'd ever _not_ want that to happen,” Because why _wouldn't_ he invite a kiss from Cas when he'd been fantasising about just that- and all kinds of other things with him- for what had to be months by now. Years, probably, Dean amended, the surprise at the realisation raising his eyebrows yet again and curving his lips up into a grin.

 

“But you two... you're not... you're not _together_. Right? I mean,” and Dean watched Sam shift in discomfort before staring back at him a little guarded. “You're... you'dve _told_ me if you were. Right?”

 

The eye roll Dean gave him then could not have been more sarcastic. “Like you wouldn't be the first to know...”

 

“Taken a while for you to tell me-”

 

“It was this morning. Like-” Dean paused again to check the time, cleared his throat and knocked off the minutes so it wouldn't sound like he'd been counting them before continuing with, “'bout eleven hours ago now,”

 

“'Eleven hours'?”

 

“There an echo in here today or something, Sammy?”

 

Dean watched as Sam's mouth opened and closed, stupefied fishlike, and decided to take pity on his simple brother by answering for him. “Yeah. 'bout eleven hours ago. We kissed. For the first time. I'm... processing,”

 

“'Processing'?” The pitch of Sam's voice then could incite a wolf pack into full howl, mournfully seeking out its lost pack member, Dean considered, clearing his throat in annoyance

 

“Yeah. _Processing_ ,”

 

Sam's eyes narrowed at him then and a glint of that earlier anger was back. “Cas kissed you,”

 

“Yeah, Sam. What're we, repeating everything we say now? Maybe we should get _you_ checked over for head trau-”

 

“He _kissed_ you,”

 

“ _Y_ _eah_ ,” and for a moment Dean chose to be wounded that Sam couldn't believe that such a thing could happen. That he'd be _allowed_ to have something that good in his life. It was unkind of him, really, Dean reflected with a huff to himself and a fold of his arms tight across his chest, deciding his feelings were hurt.

 

“And _this_ ,” Sam continued, his voice dripping with sheer disdain as he waved a hand in front of him in Dean's general direction. “ _This_. This's why you've been walking around like you've been kicked in the balls all morning? Like you've had some kinda... I don't know. Cas-related lobotomy?”

 

“I-”

 

“Let's go,”

 

Sam's bark had Dean's eyes widen yet again, but he turned back in his seat and reached for the ignition key, firing up the engine and slowly pulling back out on to the road.

 

“This...” Sam started up again several minutes later; a quick glance to his side told Dean Sam was having a lot of trouble getting his thoughts together. “This... _this_ is how you react when he _kisses_ you?”

 

“I wasn't expecting it-”

 

“But you _wanted_ it-”

 

“Who _wouldn't_ want it?” Dean bit back with, thinking Sam was clearly out of his mind.

 

“Uh...” Sam rapidly raised his hand in the air and wriggled it a touch as he shook his head in thorough denial, looking back at Dean as though he were rabid. Although his expression started to morph under Dean's continual sneaked glances as they continued to drive. It went through incredulity, anger, shock, surprise, disbelief, and paid several stops in between at out and out grins of happiness. Dean chose not to try and interpret what Sam may or may not be thinking, instead attempted to keep his thoughts purely on the road. Which was challenging.

 

“Fact is,” Dean pressed on a few minutes later. “Me 'n him, we've... we've-”

 

“Been eye-fucking for _years_?” Sam helpfully finished for him. Dean squirmed in his seat but couldn't find the words in him to change what Sam was insinuating.

 

“Yeah, that,” Dean nodded instead, eyes now out very definitely on the road in front of them, adamant to himself that he was _not_ blushing.

 

“Yeah, _that_ ,” Sam echoed with childish mockery, though the laughter laced through the tone of his words went some way to reducing the sting of them.

 

“So...” Dean began, wondering how to get these next horrible words out, bracing for a negative response.

 

“So...”

 

“You, uh... you... you got a problem? With _this_? With... with me and him? 'cos it's new. It's like, _brand_ new. We've not even really talked about it yet, and-”

 

“You _want_ this?” Sam interrupted, turning a little in his seat.

 

Dean nodded slowly, daring himself to glance over at Sam for a beat. “Yeah, Sam. Yeah... yeah, I _do._ I- I want _him_ ,”

 

“Then why would I be anything but happy for you?” Sam finished, raising an eyebrow that told Dean exactly how stupid he thought his doubts.

 

“I just-”

 

“I'm just pissed it's left you stupefied all morning 's all,” Sam laughed, settling back in his seat with a wicked grin widening across his face, his shoulders finally dropping the tension that had surely given him a stiff neck all morning.

 

“I wouldn't say-”

 

“Stupefied,” Sam insisted with a snort, hand out and tapping on the window frame but his body language continuing its shift towards something more comfortable than it had been. Dean chose to take that as a good sign, but still felt mystified at Sam's overreaction.

 

“So... so you're okay with this?” Dean repeated, because although whatever Sam said about it he had every intention of _being_ with Cas, he'd still feel better if Sam _approved._ That is if Cas hadn't gone and changed his mind since this morning already, Dean worried then, feeling his heart thudding at the possibility then arguing with himself and fighting the doubt back.

 

“Why would I be anything _but_ okay with this?” Sam snorted back, shaking his head.

 

“So-”

 

“Though you're getting us two motel rooms when we get there if he shows up,” Sam demanded with an immediate edge of dawning realisation to his words. “I mean I approve 'n all. But I don't wanna _see_ -”

 

“We wouldn't! Not... not in front of y-”

 

“Two rooms,” Sam barked with an insistent glare. “Two. Not like we don't have the credit cards to get our own rooms now, anyway.”

 

“True,” Dean conceded, the fluttering of panic in his chest tentatively beginning to subside.

 

They drove in silence for several miles, and Dean took the silence as another good sign, allowed it to wash through him and settle him back cautiously in his seat.

 

“So. You and _Cas_ ,” Sam grinned out of nowhere. Dean didn't have to turn his head to see the wicked glee in Sam eyes staring him down, instead chose to grip harder to the steering wheel and keep his eyes firmly forward.

 

“Yeah,” he replied, his voice full of stupefied wonder, “Me 'n Cas,”

 

***

 

It hadn't exactly come out of nowhere either, Dean admitted to himself, alone in the car so Sam could jump out and grab them something to eat, keep them on the road and get them where they were headed as soon as possible. Cas had started being _around_ more lately, which Dean found he really, really liked, and he'd even told him as much. Sat on a motel porch three weeks ago gripping tight around the beer in his hand, so close together that their knees were bumping, looking up and out at a starlit sky.

 

“I like having you around,” Dean had said, quiet as anything. Cas though, with his supersonic hearing heard everything. The honesty of his words, the raising of his heartbeat as he managed to stutter the words out, even the fear of misunderstanding, rejection and _losing_ that underwrote it all. Cas had dragged his eyes back to look at him, pressed himself firmer into Dean's side, and simply _beamed_ at him.

 

“I like _being_ around,” was all he'd answered with, and another hour had passed between them in silence, still looking calmly out up at those stars but with the added warmth of being pressed side to side.

 

A couple of nights later it had happened again. They'd sat down in comfortable silence and gravitated towards one another until their knees were bumping, slotting together easily and leaning in further into each other's warmth. The day after that Cas had landed in their motel room, leaned back against the counter with crossed arms and a finger pressed against his mouth in thought, as his eyes had drifted up and down Dean with much consideration.

 

“Walk with me,” had been his simple request; Dean had fallen into stride with him minutes later, and though the conversation had been nothing but trivial, a back of a hand repeatedly bumped up against another back of a hand.

 

There'd been a few days when Cas had been entirely absent, and Dean had gone about _his_ days feeling listless, repeatedly checking his phone, turning his gaze to the sky, and offering up as many silent prayers as he thought he could get away with. Just checking in, just checking Cas was okay: _that's_ all he was doing, he'd told himself the entire time. The smile Cas had rewarded him with on his return just melted Dean, and the hug that had followed seconds later had Dean feeling like he was stepping into a home rather than the embrace of warm open arms.

 

Talking had happened a week ago, instigated by Cas arriving with a pie balanced on one hand and a pack of six dangling from the other. Quiet, hesitant words and awkward admissions about _feelings_ , followed by a longer even more intimate hug, with Cas' hand stroking up the length of Dean's back before settling gently in the hair at the base of his skull, and Dean nuzzling into the warmth of Cas' neck, pressing chaste kisses into the incredible-smelling skin there.

 

Two days ago there'd been hand holding. Cas had reached out with stop-start hesitance, pressed his fingertips just above the edge of Dean's pulse in his wrist, then slid his fingers all the way up over his palm, to slot them between Dean's and give a reassuring kind of squeeze. Dean had immediately squeezed back, and though it probably wasn't as mesmerising as he'd found it at the time, Dean thought he'd lost an entire hour getting used to the weight of his hand in Cas', the smooth skin of the back of it beneath his swirling thumb, the gentle strength and steadiness of Cas' fingers between his own.

 

Dean hadn't experienced anything like it. He'd learned as a teen the escape of a soft mouth and warm body, momentary glimpses of other lives when he had possibilities other than _hunting_. He'd grown to use sex as a comfort, a distraction, a thing to do to tune out his _life_. The quiet solidness of Cas just being beside him however was something truly otherworldly, leaving him with the strangest sensation of being overwhelmed yet so very grounded at the same time.

 

And then yesterday, or technically speaking, the early hours of this morning- Dean paused again to check the time on his phone, counting the thirteen hours forty-eight minutes- Cas had asked him if he could kiss him. Simple as anything, a polite request and a quiet confession of this being something he'd been thinking about for a very long time.

 

“How long?” Dean remembered stuttering out, feeling like he was stalling because his brain was shorting out on him.

 

“An age,” Cas had assured him with a tiny smile of triumph.

 

“Me too. God, me too, Cas,” Dean had groaned back at him, urging his knees to stop trembling and pleading with them to take a step forward, which they refused to have anything to do with. Cas had closed the gap between them, three small steps that forced Dean's heart to surge faster, his throat to repeatedly swallow and his knees to actually buckle. And then Cas' hands were on his sides, holding him up, slotting them together with a gentle yet firm press of his fingers that had Dean holding his breath.

 

Cas had given him a final look to get his consent, and at Dean's rapid nod he'd leaned forward, pressing the softest of kisses imaginable to his startled lips. He'd pulled back, checking Dean over for signs of discomfort or disapproval; the open-mouthed shock he saw there had him letting out a low rumble of actual chuckle and leaning in to claim from him once again.

 

Three times Dean counted these gentle presses before his hands unstuck themselves from the fists by his sides and found their way up to wrap around Cas' waist. And finally his brain had clued in to the need to _respond_ ; at him opening his mouth a fraction beneath Cas' he'd received a warm, pleased hum. Gentle hands had cradled his face a moment later and they'd moulded together in a fit that spoke of _perfection_ , _right_ , and _home_.

 

How long the kiss had gone on for Dean couldn't be certain, although in the midst of it he'd put a guess at several years. Though when they'd pulled back from each other shyly and it was over Dean found it far too soon; Cas had apparently agreed, leaning straight back in to kiss him all over again.

 

 _Stupefied_ , Sam had accused him of being earlier, and Dean let out a single blast of laughter at the reminder as he came back to himself, still smiling wildly at this freshly made memory he'd already decided was up there with the very greatest ones of his life. Stupefied was _right_ : Dean _still_ couldn't believe he had lucked out like this, that Cas would even want him the way he clearly did. That they would slot together so easily and that things would feel so natural as it did between them. Talk about being the luckiest guy _alive_ , Dean thought to himself, vaguely acknowledging how often he'd repeated that to himself both during _The Moment_ , and every moment ever since it had happened.

 

He was still thinking this, grinning even _more_ stupidly from ear to ear and looking out unseeingly through the window when Sam climbed in beside him with a harsh slam of the door and brought his attention completely back to the present. A warm weight on his lap and he looked down, began peeling back the layers of paper to reveal a burger Dean knew he'd end up wearing eating whilst driving. Carefully he straightened out the paper further to cover as much of him as possible, mumbled thanks to Sam for the food and took a swig of the coffee handed to him, steering the car out with the practiced balance of food on the go as they headed towards their destination.

 

***

 

“ _Cas..._ ”

 

Maybe there was _tone_ in Sam's greeting at Cas' sudden arrival. A touch of mirth, a smattering of teasing, an unsubtle wall of glee. But Dean knew nothing, nothing aside from the awareness of Cas' presence that had his heart juddering and his eyes widening and his brain coming to a stuttering stop.

 

“Sam. Dean,”

 

Cas' simple utterance of their names had Dean shaking himself aware again, noticing perhaps in _want_ rather than _reality_ the extra warmth and affection in Cas' greeting for himself. His smile was all warmth though, and _all_ for him, Dean realised, feeling himself relaxing and unable to even put a halt on the grinning reply he was giving him back.

 

Awareness of an amused snort beside him and Dean turned his head a fraction, took in the way Sam slid his eyes between the two of them with unchecked glee. In the back of his head Dean considered feeling embarrassed by Sam's enjoyment of this, but being in Cas' presence was enough to calm any sense of feeling awkward he might have been thinking about feeling.

 

“'s good to see you, Cas,” Sam said a second later; Cas' smile softened his face and had Dean realising that Cas was subdued, cautiously uncertain of Sam's reaction to the news of _them_. That he'd have told Sam by now was never in question; Dean hadn't realised he'd been quite so dumbfounded this morning following their kiss, otherwise he might have broken down Sam's door with the need to share the information much earlier. Cas gave a short nod that told Sam _likewise_ ; their surroundings flooded back into Dean's consciousness and had him standing a little straighter still.

 

They were on a case; somewhere during the journey Dean had managed to concentrate enough to listen, and Sam had told him about a vampire nest and questionable circumstances in this town's high school. They had arrived here maybe only a matter of minutes ago and already had scoped out the surroundings, put together a rough plan on what they intended to do.

 

“Two rooms,” Sam suddenly barked out; Dean's breath caught in his throat and he turned his wide eyed stare to Sam, catching the smirking shake of his head. Cas took a step forward clearly intent on climbing in the back of the car as he had done a hundred times before. But before reaching for the door handle he came to a complete stop in front of Dean, eyeing him curiously as though he was deciding something about him then leaning in to give a quick peck of a kiss that left Dean reeling.

 

Sam's gleeful cackle behind them had Dean fighting back a whimper, but he watched with interest as Cas' warm gaze for him slid and morphed into something a little more pointed to stare over at Sam in clear disapproval. Sam winced in apology and waved an absent hand, opening and ducking in the car and leaving Cas and Dean standing there, barely a foot apart.

 

“Hey, Cas,” Dean managed to punch out of his mouth, his heart fluttering and stuttering and leaving him feeling as though he might not be able to put one foot in front of the other to get himself round to his side of the car and into the driver's seat. Cas' warm glowing smile for him chased away all of those feelings, however, and Dean found himself leaning in, natural as anything, claiming himself yet another quick kiss.

 

***

 

In that _second_ motel room a little later, Dean began pacing the moment he was through the door, a nervous hand clutching the back of his neck as he turned the small distance of floor space he had to work with, eyes everywhere from the shabby wallpaper to his holdall at the foot of the bed to the bathroom door. Cas leaned back against the counter merely observing; under his calm gaze Dean felt himself grow more anxious still. Until he couldn't take it any more, couldn't handle this feeling of being on edge. So stepped right up in Cas' personal space against the counter and crowded him back into it.

 

Dean moaned as he pressed his lips into Cas', his hands rising a second later to stroke over then grip the lapels of his trench coat. A nudge of his upper lip against Cas' and they were opening the kiss up. Deep hums of approval punched out of them both, with Cas' hands warm and steady around him and pulling him closer still.

 

A brave dart of tongue, an exploring nip of lips; Cas' kisses against his neck had Dean breathing harsh and rapid, one hand sliding around and through Cas' hair whilst the other one gripped tighter to that lapel, holding on for dear life. Cas' teeth grazing over his earlobe and Dean heard rather than acknowledged his own whimper. And in a flurry of need Cas raised his head again, claiming Dean's mouth as his own once more in an insistent searching kiss.

 

Warm hands at his waist and Dean was backing up, finding himself helped out of his jacket and his shirt unbuttoned, eyes wide and disbelieving at the way Cas shrugged his trenchcoat to the floor and carelessly discarded his suit jacket there as well. An absent unknotting of a tie and Dean was mesmerised. The roll of a sleeve and unbuttoning of top shirt buttons, and Dean found himself seconds away from a full on drool.

 

The edge of the bed pressed into the back of his legs; moments later Dean felt the weight of the mattress against his back instead. Cas was leaning over him, looking predatory, certain, and so very _hot_ ; the nudge of his knee between Dean's told him to part them, and Cas laid in the resultant gap with a luxurious hum.

 

Dean was soon aware of little else besides Cas' lips on his, a firm body pressing down on him and a hardness against his own that had him whimper in desperation. Dean's fingers clawed of their own accord to pull Cas' shirt from his suit trousers and soon moulded around his ass to help him grind up against him, pull out Cas' own moans of thorough approval, fill the room with nothing but the sounds of _them_ , and what they meant to each other.

 

Cas' muttering of Dean's name felt like a benediction, left him feeling so worthy and so whole he had to fight against the urge to feel overawed. Cas' worshipful lips against his skin left him gasping, welcoming the sensation of being cherished and the warmth of discovering where he belonged. Dean kept up his own utterances of praise and prayer when his brain allowed him to get the words out, Cas' name falling from his lips in joyous gasps.

 

And this was only them making out, Dean managed a second to think to himself, a tiny burst of incredulous laughter interrupting their kiss before Cas was claiming him all over again. Sam was a _genius_ mentioning a second room, Dean realised then, the warmth of Cas' skin beneath his fingertips as he pushed up his shirt a little higher and Dean knew the truth of it. Bent and nuzzled against Cas' stubbled jaw in celebration.

 

“You feel _astonishing_ ,” Cas mumbled into his ear what Dean decided felt _weeks_ later, when their frantic need had given way to tender kisses and humble exploration of fingers up the backs of shirts and exposed skin of sides. Curled side by side and wrapped around one another, that stupefied feeling Dean had felt for most of the day continued to bubble beneath the surface, but warm and certain there in Cas' arms and he could dismiss it, replace doubt with kisses that were accepted gratefully and returned willingly.

 

“So _good_ ,” Dean replied when he finally found his voice hiding behind his own _astonishment_. “So good, Cas. Why'd we wait to do this if we both wanted it, huh?” Cas initially answered with nothing more than a rumble at what had to be their joint stupidity.

 

“I believe Bobby would have referred to as both as _a pair of idjits_ ,” Cas told him, pronouncing the expression as though it was something from a strangely foreign tongue.

 

“True,” Dean couldn't help but grinning back at him, accompanying it with a possessive slide of his hand down Cas' arm. “Gotta be honest though. Don't _really_ wanna be thinking 'bout Bobby when I'm laid here with you like this. Or anyone else, come to think of it. No one else at _all,_ ”

 

Cas looked down at the lack of gap between their chests, stroked up the curl of Dean's leg over his own, then pressed his hand in claim against Dean's back and nodded, solemn, before leaning in to mouth over and mutter against his lips. “Agreed,” he told him, already sounding distracted. Dean decided it was a long enough moment of disruption and pulled Cas with him as he rolled back against the bed, angling his mouth up to be kissed all over again.

 


End file.
